


Running on Fumes

by Eff_Dragonkiller



Series: 2019 Fluff Bingo [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad self-care habits, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Good Peter, No Alpha Pack, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 01:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eff_Dragonkiller/pseuds/Eff_Dragonkiller
Summary: Sheriff Stilinski is taking a break. Stiles isn't giving him a choice.





	Running on Fumes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the 2019 Fluff Bingo Challenge on the Just Write! Discord Server.
> 
> The prompt was Snuggling in Bed.

The bags under his dad's eyes had grown quite dark since the last time Stiles had seen him. The wrinkles around his mouth were a little more pronounced and his clothes fit badly across his shoulders. The group of survivors who had managed to congregate in the Beacon Hills Mall had been short on food, but not enough to reduce them to this.

His father was running on fumes.

It made sense. There were literally zombies at the gate. And once again the sheriff’s deputies had taken the brunt of the attack. They were down to a handful of officers, including the Sheriff, and some drafted civilians with guns and aim. Though a surprising amount of supernatural creatures had crawled out of the woodwork, most didn’t have much skill with weapons and no one wanted to find out what kind of damage a zombie half-troll could do.

And there weren’t even Hunters to pick up the slack. The Argents had vanished just before the world went to hell in a handbag, which was a very convenient coincidence that Stiles was certain wasn’t a coincidence at all. If He ever saw Allison or Chris again he was going to give them a piece of his fucking mind for not warning them. He tried not to think about what – _who_ – they could have saved with even an hour’s warning.

Their small mall-confined community didn’t have the resources to indulge the temper tantrum he wanted to have.

All that was left of the town was here, confined to the local mall. By the time the Mayor had finally ordered an evacuation, there had already been a dozen wrecks on the roads leading out of town. The only place left to hole-up had been the mall. It wasn’t a bad place to position themselves even if it had been a gross hell trying to clear of the undead.

There was just about every amenity under the sun because it was the largest shopping center for three counties. It was close to the local power plant, so there was some limited-use electricity. Most of the eateries still had a good selection of food, which had already been commandeered, and there was no deficit of entertaining or useful supplies. It had a nice flat roof to station a sniper and a clear visual range the entire way around the building.

It even had security grates that could cordon off entire halls. So families and friends, what was left of them, gathered in their own little storefronts and pulled the security grate down when they slept. The Mayor had told people it was for their safety. If a zombie managed to get into the mall a second layer of grating would keep them from the sleeping survivors. Stiles figured it was actually for everyone _else’s_ safety. After all, if something can’t get in, it also can’t get out. And none of the trained medical professionals could figure out if biting was the only way to pass the infection.

Something had to give.

“Come on.” Stiles tugged at his Dad’s arm. “Take a break. Chillax, spend some time with your son.”

“What?” John was pretty bleary-eyed and Stiles was not always easy to follow when he was wide-awake.

Stiles grinned, “Come take a break. You don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep in the last week and I can tell you’ve forgotten to eat.” The boy bit back the clarification that John had probably chosen not to eat for whatever reason, but Stiles wasn’t having it.

“There’s a little something called the Zombie apocalypse going on, Stiles. Other things were more important.” But for all that John complained about the work he didn’t actually resist when Stiles heaved him up and started to push him out the door of the little security closet that had become the Sheriff’s station.

“Get real. Nothing is more important to me than your well-being.” Stiles paused, then clarified, “Well, except for your physical safety. That’s pretty damn important too.”

John snorted.

A woman stood off to the side and waved for their attention, “Sheriff, can you-”

“Ask Parrish.” Stiles refused to stop. His father had earned a damn break. The remaining Deputies had even staggered their shifts to make sure the Sheriff didn’t have to be at the station 24/7. He has no qualms about leaving the woman gaping in their wake. “The Sheriff’s taking a break.”

The Mayor was the next opponent in the World v. John-Stilinski-Gets-A-Nap and he looked relieved to see them approaching him, which was unfortunate because Stiles had no time for the asshole’s bureaucratic shit. “John, have you seen-”

“Sheriff Stilinski is not available,” Stiles said as powered through the Mayor’s obstructive presence.

“Stiles!” John finally rebuked, twisting to turn to the Mayor, but Stiles wasn’t having it at all.

“Nope.” He twisted around his father and instead of tugging he started pushing. “Sheriff Stilinski is not available.”

The Mayor scowled, “Son, I understand that this is a trying time-”

“You don’t understand anything.” Stiles interrupted, “My father has skipped sleep and meals for at least the past three days. Not to mention whenever he’d last gotten rest before this shit show got started. You want a healthy helpful Sheriff? He needs a break. _So, find someone else to ask!_”

They left the mayor sputtering in the common areas of the mall-turned-town as Stiles dragged his father through the territory that had been claimed by the once hidden supernatural creatures of the town. There was a small court of less-than-half Fae, the only tolerable kind, that hadn’t been able to resist settling into open spaces of a jewelry store. And the remnants of the pod of Mer from the preserve who were trying to arrange a series of tubs so their kids wouldn’t get sick. Stiles nodded as he passed.

“Stiles, where are we going?”

“To the den,” Stiles replied.

John tugged at his arm, “That’s just for pack, though. I’m not comfortable with invading Hale’s space like this, Stiles.”

Stiles blew a raspberry, still marching onwards determinately. “I’m pack and you’re my Dad. Which makes you pack. And you haven’t been sleeping.”

“It’s -” John sighed heavily without finishing the thought. But he didn’t have to, Stiles knew his dad.

“Yeah, it is.” The teenager stopped just outside the location Derek and Peter had decided was safest for the pack’s den. “There’s not a lot I can do to change that, but I can help you sleep better.”

John made a face. “I’m not really interested in drugs, Stiles.”

“Drugs?” Stiles snorted, “Who needs drugs? You’re going to be guest of honor in the middle of the puppy pile tonight, Dad. I promise you’ve never slept better than you will when you know that super ears and super sniffers are between you and the ravaging hoards of the undead.”

“I see how it is, Stiles.” Erica snorted from her position on the floor, laying out fresh bedding. “You’re just with us for our bodies.”

Stiles smirked and gave the she-wolf an exaggerated once-over. “And what beautiful bodies they are.”

It might have gone on. Peter had timed it once, just to see how long they could keep up the manufactured behavior. Scott had gotten uncomfortable at the three-hour mark when Allison had gone home, and he’d finally had to pay attention to what was going on around him. So, Derek threw a pillow at the human’s head. It hit with a whomp.

“Hey, now!” Stiles sputtered, “No abusing the poor human!”

“It was self-defense,” Derek replied dryly. “My ears were starting to bleed.”

The assembled pack chuckled.

“I don’t have any bedding.” John paused on the thought, “Or clothes.”

“I have some extra supplies.” Peter offered John a duffle and the Sheriff tried not to consider how long Stiles had been planning this kidnapping. “Boyd and Isaac are still in the showers at the back. You’ll probably be done before they are if you head back – oh, within the next year.”

John snorted, and a voice yelled from the bathroom at the back.

“You’re just jealous that we’re pretty and you’re not!”

The older wolf snorted, “Oh, is that how you do it? An hour in the shower and about thirty different layers of cosmetics? If we peel it off does it reveal a Scooby-Doo villain of the week?”

Stiles snorted and John had to admit, there was much more warmth here than he’d thought there would be for an outsider like him. Already the fear and tension he’d carried were unwinding from between his shoulders and his eyes were growing heavy. If he wanted to be clean going to sleep he needed to head back before he passed out still standing.

“Don’t worry. I’ll save you a spot.” His son said patting the thick cushion right beside him on the floor. “Prime cuddling territory.”

And well, that didn’t sound nearly as bad as John had thought it would.


End file.
